


Fortunate Son

by blueink3



Series: Rumor 'Verse [2]
Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Family, Kid Fic, M/M, War, angst like whoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueink3/pseuds/blueink3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The days leading up to and during Alex's deployment in Vietnam. Everyone handles it in their own way. Some handle better than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Folks Are Born Silver Spoon in Hand

The seemingly innocuous piece of paper rests innocently in the middle of table, but those hovering around it – those who know just what that letter contains – know 'innocence' has nothing to do with it.

Alex watches as Scott punches the wall and promptly curses, but even the expletive (which definitely would have earned the swear jar at least $5) gets no reprimand from the Professor. And that's maybe what hurts the most. He's destroying the tranquil family unit they've created, disrupting the school they've founded. Who would teach history while Alex was out being a part of it?

Charles wordlessly hands Scott an icepack for his knuckles and places a firm hand on his shoulder, as Jean slides her arm around his waist. Alex takes comfort in knowing his little brother will be looked after while he's overseas. He can tell Raven is on the verge of tears as she stares at the piece of paper, but it's Sean's reaction that surprises him the most. Instead of a tension-breaking joke, or a snarky comment, he turns without a word and walks from the room.

Alex sighs. Hank hasn't even been told yet.

"But what does it mean?" Danny asks as he looks up at Charles and Alex has to swallow past the lump that has quite suddenly lodged itself in his throat.

His eyes meet Erik's over the table and a silent understanding passes between them. Erik is the only other person in the room to experience war. Sure, they all had their bit of the Cuban Missile Crisis (some even had the scars to prove it), but only Erik had seen the horror up close. The rest had the comfort of a television screen between them and it.

He clears his throat and wills his voice not to crack as he addresses the youngest of their brood. "It means I'm leaving for a bit."

"But…" Danny's gaze travels from Alex up to Charles and then Erik, as if seeking confirmation. "But where are you going?"

And Alex isn't really sure what to say. This is unchartered territory for him and, while he doesn't want to lie to the kid, he also doesn't want to scare the shit out of him. Charles is always so good at towing that line and Alex looks to him helplessly for a second.

"You know the news reports you've seen?" Charles asks, as he places a comforting hand on his son's head. Danny nods and his eyes grow wide at the memory. "Alex is going to fight in Vietnam."

If it's possible, Danny's eye widen even further. "That's far away," is all he says in reply.

Alex feels a small hand slide into his and he looks down to find Wanda pressed into his side. She doesn't look at him, maybe she can't, but the death grip she has on his palm tells him she knows exactly where he's going and exactly what he'll be doing. He rests his free hand on her head and gently strokes her auburn waves.

Pietro remains seated at the table, staring at the letter. His eyes slide over every word, every pronouncement and every direction, until he reaches the War Department's signature at the bottom. Alex watches his eyes dart back to the top and continue their path downward again. Maybe if he reads it enough, he'll actually believe it. Ororo stands on tiptoe next to him, her head turning from the paper to Pietro and back again. She is his shadow in every sense, and she's probably waiting to see how he reacts so she can take her cue.

"When are you coming back?" Danny asks and finally he sees the break in his fathers' strong facades: Erik closes his eyes as Charles bites down on a visibly trembling lower lip, and it's all Alex can do to force a smile on his face and reach down with the hand Wanda isn't still gripping and ruffle Danny's hair.

"I'm not sure, Squirt."

"But you'll come back, right?"

 _Oh God, don't ask me that._ "I'll try." His voice cracks.  _Dammit._

Danny pouts as if trying isn't good enough. It probably isn't. "Say you will."

Alex swallows and glances helplessly again at Charles and then Erik, who gives the slightest nod of his head, as if saying that whatever promises he breaks, they'll be there to make it right. Or as right as it can be.

"I will," he finally manages and Danny looks placated.

Alex stares back at the paper, pleading silently with the signature at the bottom of the page.

_Please don't make a liar out of me._

xxxxxx

Charles wants to savor the time he has with Alex before the boy reports for basic training.  _Boy._ He's really not anymore, and hasn't been for a while. Still. Old habits die hard and Charles reaches out delicately with his mind to ascertain where the blond might be hiding.

Alex has taken to disappearing and Charles suspects it's more a case of self-preservation than anything else. He might act the tough-guy, but Charles has seen the younger man's thoughts and he knows he's dreading his goodbyes almost as much as Charles and Erik are.

He makes his way down to the bunker, sending a quick thought to Erik, letting him know where's he going. Erik sends back a  _Good luck_  and Charles tries to laugh it off, but he knows he needs all the luck he can get if he's going to get through the next few days.

 _They're just kids,_  he had said oh so long ago. They still were in his mind's eye and knowing he's sending one of them off to war, a war whose body count mounts by the day, makes his stomach knot and his heart ache.

The elevator doors slide open and he hears the gunshots before he's even stepped foot into the hallway. The heavy metal door stands open a crack and he peers in just in time to catch the audible click of an empty cartridge and the frustrated groan as Alex releases the mag and pulls another from the box by his feet.

"Practicing?" Charles opens the door with a creak and slides his hands into his pockets.

Alex glances at him, startled, before recovering and giving a small shrug. "Might as well." He slides the mag into place and levels the barrel at the target on the wall before unloading.

"You've gotten better," Charles remarks in what he hopes is a nonchalant tone, but it still unnerves him that his children can handle weaponry so well.

Alex snorts. "Almost as good as you." The cartridge clicks and Alex releases it, letting it clatter to the ground. "You never did tell us where you learned to shoot like that."

Charles frowns. "Like what?"

"That day in the bunker years ago." Alex gives up on loading another round and pulls a rag from his pocket and begins to clean the weapon. "We had just recovered Wanda and Pietro, and Erik was firing round after round into a dummy that must have pissed him off. The thing was practically hanging by a thread by the time you got to it. Still, you waltzed in, picked up the gun, and made mincemeat of the thing."

A soft smile graces Charles' face at the memory. He had wanted to teach them a lesson; he didn't intend on doing it quite so dramatically.

"I trained for Korea," he finally responds and, if the slack look on Alex's face is anything to go by, it's an answer the boy was definitely not expecting.

"Excuse me?"

"I never went, but I trained." He holds his hand out for the gun and Alex places it somewhat reverently in his hand, jaw still dropped. "Not even Erik knows that."

"How does Raven not know?"

"She was in school. Boarding school." He examines the weapon, impressed with the way Alex has kept it clean. He probably has Erik to thank for drilling that lesson into him. "I wrote her letters and led her to believe I was still in college. Truth be told, I had graduated a year earlier." He notes Alex's mystified look and he shrugs. "I didn't want to worry her."

"Why didn't you go?"

"The war ended before I got there. I packed off to Oxford and Raven was none the wiser."

Alex huffs out a disbelieving chuckle. "Wow." The chuckle dies, the smile slides from Alex's face, and for a brief moment, he looks like a frightened little boy. It's a look Charles hasn't seen since he lay bleeding on a beach, unable to feel anything from the waist down. "So you know how this feels." It's not a question.

Charles nods. "I know how this feels."

And Alex allows himself to be wrapped in a hug as he buries his face in Charles' neck and inhales shakily. And Charles raises his eyes up to the ceiling, thanking someone somewhere for this moment.

This calm before the storm.

xxxxxx

Sean's never been one for avoiding. He's a bit of a clinger. More of a lover not a fighter kinda guy. But for the past few days, he's been taking every alternate route the mansion has on offer to avoid running into anyone.

Well. Someone.

He's not good with goodbyes. Never has been. When Erik and Raven left, he liked to pretend they were just on vacation, bound to return home whenever the rain came or the booze ran out on whatever tropical island they were lounging on. It was just easier. If he got stoned enough, he could almost imagine postcards written by them wishing he was there, and sometimes, if he was lucky enough, he would wake not really sure which was reality and which was fiction.

He walks in the dead of night, tiptoeing as if he's still sixteen and about to be reprimanded for breaking into the liquor cabinet. But gone are those days and he takes the whiskey as he pleases.

But somewhere along the way he's miscalculated. His route has been compromised. He finds himself outside of one of the many rooms they've converted into classrooms as voices echo off of the paneled walls, immediately distinct in their pitch and timbre. He pads closer and, sure enough, Alex stands near the desk upon which Danny sits, in his hand-me-down Captain America pajamas from Pietro's closet.

"It's right…" Alex spins the globe before stopping it abruptly with the pad of his forefinger. "Here."

"Vi-et-nam," Danny carefully reads, and blinks up happily. "Now I know where to send your letters."

Alex chuckles, and Sean finds himself staying, leaning into the doorway as if he's about to be dragged away.

"Send your letters to the Army, Squirt. They'll know where to find me."

"Always?"

And Sean notes the hesitation on Alex's face before he nods. "Always."

He can't help the  _Missing in Action_ that floats across his brain. It'll just be more promises that the Prof and Erik will have to excuse should worse come to worst. And it's that thought that drives him away, even though every fiber of his not entirely sober being begs to stay. Even though he knows he only has a matter of days to come to terms with the fact that his brother is leaving him. And possibly not returning. It's that knowledge that has him running in the other direction because he can't face the truth of the situation.

Because when it comes to goodbyes, he's always been a bit of a coward.

xxxxxx

Charles and Erik don't speak about it. They don't really need to – Walter Kronkite's booming baritone says enough for most.

It isn't until the night before he ships off to basic training that Alex seeks him out. Erik's been waiting, biding his time, because he knows that sooner or later, Alex will come knocking.

He stays in the study, staring at the fire as it slowly dies from a blaze to a burn. He tilts his head back so Charles can place an upside down kiss on his lips before lifting Danny to do the same. Danny giggles and Erik can't help but close his eyes and inhale. His Bärchen smells of toothpaste and Johnson's baby shampoo (though he hasn't been a baby for quite a while), and his wet hair tickles Erik's cheek. He leans into Charles' touch as the other half of his whole gently traces his jawline, because he knows what Erik is waiting to do. He knows that before the end of the night, Erik will come to terms with something he swore never, ever to do again: willingly send someone he loves into war. Erik knows Charles knows this and he reads  _I love you, I'm here for you_ in the faint smile that graces the telepath's face, before he hauls Daniel over his shoulder, much to the laughing child's delight.

He waits fifteen minutes. Then thirty. Ororo scampers in, presses a quick hug to him and scampers out. She flits about like a ship in a storm, bouncing this way and that, getting into trouble more often than not.

Thirty minutes becomes fifty, and eventually Pietro sulks in and stands in front of his chair, staring at his bare toes.

Erik raises an eyebrow. "Something you needed, Pietro?"

The boy shakes his head. He is thirteen and unpredictable. Erik hasn't tried to thoroughly discipline him yet, because Hank's words still haunt him:  _"You could ground him and he'd be halfway to California before you finished your sentence. It should make for some interesting teenage years."_

Still, for as unpredictable as he is, Erik knows exactly what this is about. He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and waits. Because waiting is the game of the night.

"I don't want him to go," the boy finally mumbles and Erik sighs as something inside of him breaks.

"None of us do, Schatz."

The corner of Pietro's mouth quirks up at the long forgotten nickname and, for the first time in longer than Erik cares to remember, his son steps forward and wraps his arms around his father's neck.

And Erik - he holds on like there's no tomorrow.

Seconds turn into minutes and eventually the boy lets go, surreptitiously wipes his eyes as "G'night, Papa" tumbles from his lips.

The game begins again and Erik waits, knowing Charles is in bed playing the game as well. He knows that Jean is in Scott's room, most likely curled around him. Erik doesn't have the heart to shoo her back into her own. Not tonight. So he waits and listens as the footsteps die down. He hears Ororo's door close and then Sean's. Raven's and Pietro's and Scott's.

Hank won't make it back from DC in time to say goodbye, and Erik knows that if, God forbid something happens, Hank will bear more guilt than he thinks the Beast can bear.

He doesn't have to wait long for Wanda. She's been remarkably silent for the past few days, and she shows a prowess for stealth as she sneaks into the study without a sound. It's a talent Erik knows will cause him more than a few headaches as she gets older. But he has this moment and it's one he intends to savor, as she climbs into his lap, nearly too big, and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

"Love you, Papa."

"Love you, liebling."

She slides off and slinks out, just as quietly as before, and Erik waits for the final goodnight and the person for whom he plays this game.

The door creaks and the last remaining embers of the fire crack. A throat clears and Erik braces himself as Alex's familiar footsteps pad across the well-worn rug.

"Do you have a minute?" he asks and it's all Erik can do not to snort. Time is all he has.

He stands and stretches, groaning at the new aches that each month seems to bring. Charles calls him "old man." Erik secretly loves it.

But now is not the time for nicknames, yet it's all the metal-bender can do not to mutter "Havok" and reach out to ruffle that hair.

Still, he waits, biding his time for those two little words to come, because they always do. And he wants to be here when Alex realizes there's no stopping them and there's no shame in them.

Finally, after what feels like hours rolled into seconds, he hears them:

"I'm scared." Alex finally draws his gaze from the carpet and meets Erik's dead on. "I'm so scared."

A strangled noise he doesn't remember making leaves his mouth as Erik grabs the boy's shoulder none too gently and practically crashes their chests together. "If anything happens to you, I will find you," he mutters, voice rough. "Do you hear me? Charles and I will come find you."

He feels Alex nod against his neck as he watches the dying fire over the boy's shaking shoulder.

And he waits.

xxxxxx

Alex picks each of them up in turn. Even the ones that are too big for him to do so.

"Don't strain your back before you get there," Raven mutters, but even she can't stifle the gasp/sob that escapes as Alex wraps his arms around her waist in a bear hug and lifts her clean off the floor. He lets her down gently, but she latches her arms around his neck and doesn't let go for a good amount of time.

Charles tries to remember what it was like when he hauled his own Army pack over his shoulder, but it was nothing like this. There was no long goodbye. No teary farewell. Just a lie in a few letters to his sister and a pair of dogtags now gathering dust in his bedside drawer.

He watches as Alex makes his way down the line, each hug unique to the person upon which it's bestowed. Sean looks as lost as Charles has ever seen him, giving Alex an awkward handshake before diving head first and burying his face in his chest so hard, Alex stumbles back a few steps. Scott clenches his jaw, his emotions hidden behind scarlet lenses. He gives Alex a firm hug, but the way his fingers grope his older brother's bomber jacket gives away the desperation he's trying so hard to hide. Jean kisses Alex on the cheek, which prompts Ororo to tug him down so she can do the same. Pietro gives him some sort of elaborate handshake, while Wanda clings to his torso for so long, Erik gently has to pry her away. But it's Daniel, of all people, that leaves Charles nearly an incoherent mess.

Alex steps up to the little boy that barely reaches his midsection and Danny holds out the bunny that Charles spent many an evening frantically trying to find to soothe his son's tears.

"For me?" Alex asks, a little shell-shocked, because he knows the sentiment behind the brown bunny with the matted fur and missing eye.

Danny nods and pushes it into Alex's hands. "I don't need him anymore. I'm too big."

"And what am I?" Alex smirks, but Charles has never felt such pride as he does when Daniel cocks his head and says in all seriousness, "A boy who will need a friend."

Alex gapes for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on a dock, but no words come. He clutches the bunny to his chest for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a firm kiss to Danny's hair.

"I'll take good care of him," he eventually manages.

"He'll take good care of you, too," the boy replies.

Alex straightens and stares at the final two. He has saved Erik and Charles for last and Charles is still trying to figure out whether that's for the best or completely disastrous, even as the boy steps in front of him and shuffles his feet back and forth.

Charles eventually clears his throat and wraps his arms around the man in front of him _._ "Take care of yourself, understand?" He feels Alex nod and Charles holds him tighter. "Don't do anything stupid, or rash, or something Erik would do."

"Hey," Erik mutters, but the words have their desired effect as Alex pulls back and manages a smile.

Charles squeezes his shoulder before cupping his cheek. "Come home."

And it's that which almost seems to break the younger man, but he holds it together enough to give Charles another stiff nod, before turning to Erik and giving him a strong handshake.

Charles knows they had their moment the night before, away from prying eyes and listening ears. It was only for them and Charles respects that, shutting Erik down even when the metal-bender offered to share the memory.

"Save that one just for you," he had whispered. And now… now Charles finds himself trying to gather every memory, every mundane fact, and every ridiculous story close to him for safe keeping, until Alex can come back and create new ones.

The pack is hauled and a final wave is tossed.

Charles presses close to Erik as Alex swings a leg over Erik's old bike and gives a mock salute, which Danny and Pietro happily return.

"Come home," he finds himself muttering into the wind.

And as Alex's eyes find his for the briefest of moments before he flips the visor down, Charles can almost believe he heard him.


	2. Some Folks Inherit Star-Spangled Eyes

Hank arrives the day after Alex leaves, and he knows he’s missed it – Alex called him from the barracks – but he can’t help the feeling of _just_   _maybe_ as he stumbles from the back of the unmarked car and into the foyer of the place he calls “home.”

“Charles! Erik!” His gruff voice echoes off the cavernous ceiling and he hears a distant squeal of “Hank!” so he knows at least Ororo’s aware he’s arrived. 

The pounding of footsteps precedes her arrival as she rounds the corner and practically hurls herself into his arms. She’s getting taller and it takes a second of unbalance to adjust to the new height difference. 

“I missed you,” she says, mumbled against his fur, and his chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. 

“I missed you, too. Where are the Professor and Erik?” 

She points a finger down the hall, which he knows to mean “in the study,” and so he lets her down and spares a glance for the Defense Department-issued vehicle now making its way back down the driveway. 

The house feels oddly quiet, as if still processing the departure of one of its own. Usually laughter, screaming, crying, yelling, door-slamming, or all of the above can be heard on any given afternoon. But it’s silent. And that’s perhaps what unnerves him most of all. 

He takes a moment to stare into the study, at Erik stretched out on the couch with his feet in Charles’ lap. They each read a book – Charles, something by Byron, and Erik, some biography – and Hank gently raps on the doorframe, even though he’s pretty sure Charles has been aware of his impending arrival since he crossed the New York state border. 

“Hank!” The Professor still has the decency to act surprised as he glances up to spy the man in the doorway, though, and it’s something that still makes Hank smile and feel oddly grateful as he steps into the room. 

Erik swings his legs off of Charles’ lap and stands, offering him a firm handshake and a clap on the back. But Charles, ever the affectionate one, wraps him in a hug and squeezes him tight. 

And quite suddenly, he can barely swallow around the lump in his throat, because he should have been here. The missile plans could have waited for him to say goodbye. And yet he knows they couldn’t have. He knows they needed to be finished so they could be approved so they could be sent over to _help_ Alex do his job. Still. The fact that his goodbye was said over the phone instead of in-person kills a bit more of him with every passing day. 

“I should have been here,” he finally says and Charles’ eyes soften as he squeezes his shoulder. 

“Hank. You were doing something bigger than all of us. No one understands that more than Alex.”   

He shakes his head, because nothing is bigger or more important than this family, but the rational side of him thinks, _Yes, in a war, exceptions must be made._

“We hope you’ll stay.” And the hope comes from Erik, which is surprising. He usually plays his hopes close to the vest, but that perhaps makes the offer all the more rewarding. 

Hank nods. The missile plans have been submitted and there’s nothing more he can do. And even if they hadn’t, he’s not sure the President himself could have pulled him away from this house now that he’s arrived. 

“I’m going to stay,” he says. “For the time being.” 

And stay he does.

xxxxxx

Letters come and letters go. Ororo and Daniel have taken to racing down the not-inconsiderable driveway when they see the post-man’s truck in the distance. Sometimes Wanda joins in, but Pietro has been banned from competition. 

They each write their letters in turn. Charles and Erik always write together, folding Danny’s crayon masterpiece in with their own. The children write when they can, in between the studies the adults insist they continue, and the games they’re forced to play in some manner of faked joy. 

Jean takes every one of Alex’s letters and begins a collage on the wall in the kitchen. It starts on the refrigerator, but eventually spreads to the wall and above the stove with every passing week. 

It’s nearly midnight when the phone call comes, and Erik picks it up on the second ring, because he’s been waiting. 

“Alex?” 

“How’d you know?” He sounds startled. “Am I seriously still in Charles’ range?” 

Erik offers a rare chuckle. “He’s good, but not that good. Come on, who else would call at midnight?” He pauses and the smile fades. “And I know what tomorrow is.” 

Silence on the other end. 

Charles joins him, sliding an arm around his waist as he rests his head on Erik’s shoulder close to the receiver. The deployment is mere hours away. Probably at 0600 or some other ungodly hour. The protective side of him wants to tell the boy to get some sleep, but the rest of him just wants to keep him on the phone forever. It’s the first and last call they’ve received since Alex left and it’s another goodbye of sorts. 

“I just wanted to hear your voices again,” Alex eventually says. “Before I go.” 

“Do you want us to wake the children?” Charles offers, and it’s probably the only other time other than New Years that he would be willing to rouse them from their beds. 

“No, no. Don’t… don’t wake them…” Alex trails off and Erik can hear a huff of breath across the receiver. “I meant _your_ voices. I need…” Another huff and Erik can practically see Alex running his hand through his hair. “I know I’m too old for this shit, but I just need you… for a second.” 

Charles’ arm tightens around Erik’s waist as he presses his temple against Erik’s jaw. “You’re never too old for this.” 

And _oh boy_ , now they’re into dangerous waters because Erik has never been the one that the children run to when they have problems. He’s never been the “advice” parent. He’s more of the “smack them upside the head and make them do ten push-ups” kind of parent. 

He holds the receiver closer to Charles’ ear, as if passing the baton, and Charles throws him a mock glare. The telepath has insisted on countless occasions that he’s not as bad as the children say. Erik hold the receiver out further. With a roll of the eyes, Charles takes the phone and immediately erects what Erik called his “Dad” face. It made an appearance when Ororo scraped her knee and Sean fell from the tree. When Raven and Hank broke up and every year when Pietro and Wanda handed him a Father’s Day card. He saw it the first time he clapped eyes on Daniel, as the baby toddled over to Charles’ wheelchair and stood on tiptoes to grab at his father’s nose, and every time he’s looked at Daniel since. 

He realizes he’s zoned out just as he hears Charles make Alex promise to write when he can. In turn, Alex demands that if they don’t hear anything from him for a while, to not worry and call up the National Guard. 

Charles pouts for a moment and Erik actually laughs. Calling the National Guard had clearly been one of his back-up plans for if the CIA fell through. But with Moira and McCone, “falling through” was rarely a problem. 

“Fine. No National Guard,” Charles relents. 

“And no CIA, either!” Erik hears Alex say and Charles looks personally affronted. 

“Oh come on! I can’t stop Moira and McCone if they want to do something.” 

“Yes you can,” Alex says. “Hell, you could probably stop all of the Viet Cong if we dropped you off at the nearest airport.” He chuckles but it dies quickly, as does the smile on Charles’ face. That’s the burden of being the world’s most powerful telepath: allowing free will, no matter how costly the price. 

Alex clears his throat and Erik realizes the time for jokes is over and the time for goodbye has come. 

“Please don’t tell Scott I called. He’ll kill you two first for not putting him on the phone and then he’ll fly half a world away just to punch me in the face.” 

Erik rolls his eyes. “We’re not _that_ dumb.” 

“I don’t know…” and the mischievous tone that he’s missed so much is back. “You _are_ the one who thought it would be a _great_ idea to lie to the man you love and run off to the _Village_. Come on, you have more taste than that. At least go for the Upper East Side.” 

Charles is nearly red with barely contained laughter and Erik snatches the receiver back. 

“Do you want me to tell Scott and fly him to Vietnam myself?” he threatens. 

“You’d get lost and end up in Canada.” 

Erik should be outraged for this insubordination, but frankly, he’s too desperate to keep the boy talking. To hear his voice and lock this conversation away to memory to take out on cold nights when the letters have slowed. 

“Probably,” he finally says and he knows the time really has come, as much as all parties involved would like to avoid it. 

“Get some sleep,” Charles manages. “Write us when you get there.”

“You realize it’ll probably get to you at least three weeks after the fact?” 

“Write us anyway,” Erik insists. 

“I will.” His voice has gone quiet. “I’ll see you soon?” 

“We’ll see you soon.” 

Erik holds the phone long after the line has gone dead. 

xxxxxx

Daniel likes it when Aunt Moira visits. She brings taffy and good hugs and pens from The White House. And she, Daddy, and Vati stay up long after they think Daniel’s gone to bed, which means he can sneak into Pietro’s room and listen to his ghost stories. Pietro tells good ghost stories, even if it means Daniel can’t sleep for the next week. 

But now, there aren’t anymore late nights when Aunt Moira comes. They stay up, sure. But they aren’t laughing and Daniel likes the laughing most. 

The nightmares he gets aren’t from the ghost stories, or the creaking closet door that always has him thinking someone’s lurking behind it. Now he dreams of guns and explosions and blood and _Alex Alex Alex_. Alex, who used to toss him in the air just to see how high he could go. Alex, who snuck him cookies after dinner, even when he didn’t eat all of his vegetables. Alex, who stopped him at the front door when he got in his first fight with Daddy and Vati and convinced him not to run away. 

He thinks it’s the news, but he can’t stop watching; always hoping for a glimpse of Alex when the camera pans away to take in the base camp. He never sees him, but he watches all the same. 

He’s pretty sure Vati will pick him up and carry him back to his room the first time he tip-toes across their carpet (because even _he_ knows he’s too old for this), but Vati surprises him by scooting over and patting the space next to him. Daniel climbs up on the ginormous bed and settles in, tucking his cold toes under Vati's warm leg. Yes, he's too old for this, but that doesn't stop him from doing it every other night for the next three weeks. 

The television disappears (as do the newspapers, but he doesn’t read those) – and the nightmares stop for a bit at least. But eventually, the guns and the explosions and the blood and _Alex Alex Alex_ seeps back into his psyche and he finds himself making that familiar trek once more, but what he sees when he gets there stops him in the doorway. 

Vati is sitting up in bed with his head in his hands, shaking, as Daddy presses his forehead to Vati’s temple and runs a hand up and down his back. 

“Breathe, my love,” Daddy murmurs and Vati inhales deeply. “It was just a dream.” 

Vati nods and turns his head to bury it in Daddy’s neck. 

He knows he’s not his Vati’s. Not biologically (a word Daddy taught him). But they have more things in common than Danny realizes and it’s that thought that sends him back to his bed for a warm, dreamless night. 

xxxxxx

Erik thinks Charles is too soft on the children. Life must progress, no matter the wars fought. Dinners must be eaten, studies must be taught, and sleep must be had. He tries to keep things as normal as possible: dragging Ororo to sit down at the dinner table; sending Daniel back to his own bed. 

But he knows he’s just looking for an excuse to keep _himself_ busy, because if he stops for the smallest moment to _think_ , he will lose what little composure he has. 

He inhales deeply as he stares at the moonlit grounds in front of him. Charles is asleep inside and Erik envies his ability to quiet his mind and drop off like the dead. It’s quite an ordeal to sneak out of their bed – Charles is a bit like an octopus, curling around Erik’s body and not letting go – and, though Erik needs the moment, he also already misses the warm embrace of the man upstairs. 

He should see it coming, but it still surprises him when he nearly trips over Sean, sprawled out on the grass. Erik curses his luck and glances at the house, wondering for a brief moment if he should just leave the boy to his drunken haze, but with a heavy sigh and a regret that he didn’t throw on a sweatshirt, he reaches a toe out and nudges him with his foot. 

“Cassidy,” he growls, but he gets no response. There’s an empty bottle of something near Sean’s hand, and Erik seriously considers locking the liquor cabinet with a padlock only he and Charles have the code to. 

Once more he debates leaving him, and once more he curses his luck as he bends down to sit beside him, joints aching. Sean unconsciously moves toward Erik’s warmth and puts his head on Erik’s knee. 

“Sean,” Erik tries again, shaking his shoulder a little harder. “Sean, wake up.” 

“No,” Sean mutters and Erik rolls his eyes.

“Cassidy. Up. Now.” Erik moves his knee and Sean’s head falls to the grass, but still he doesn’t move. 

Erik knows it’s hard on him. Hank is working for the DOD, Raven is helping the CIA, and Alex is off to war, leaving Sean to think about all he’s not doing. He’s always the one to be left behind and Erik considers him for a moment, before standing up and hauling the boy to his feet. 

He’ll reprimand him in the morning and the padlock the liquor for good measure. But for now he loops Sean’s arm around his shoulders and practically carries him into the house.  

Sean mumbles something that sounds like “Should have been me,” and it gives the older man pause.

Yes, Charles is too soft on the children. But that still doesn’t stop Erik from gently lowering Sean to the bed and placing a feather-light kiss on his head. 

xxxxxx

Months pass and the letters slow, but still they come. And that’s all Charles can hope for. 

Wanda’s taken to hiding in the bunker and Erik collects her when it’s time for dinner. Sometimes she comes, most times she stays, but Charles knows she misses her sparring partner more than she lets on. She’s very good at hiding her emotions – she takes after Erik that way – but he keeps an eye on her, on all of them, as the days tick by. 

It’s when the letters stop that Charles knows the churning feeling in his gut hasn’t been unfounded. 

McCone confirms it a day later when he utters the four words that Charles has been dreading to hear since he sent Alex off with a hug and a “come home.” 

“He’s been shot down.”

xxxxxx

Scott wants to be grateful, he really does because it’s more than most people get, but it’s all he can do to not rip his glasses off and bring the mansion down. Jean’s hand is on his back in a second and it should be comforting, but he shrugs her off and stalks away, ignoring the hurt look on her face as he races down the back steps and into the garden. 

He made fun of his brother when he first started getting flight lessons from Hank in the jet. He made jokes about the damage he'd do to the mansion and the insurance headaches he'd cause the Professor and Erik. But in the back of his mind, he knew that Alex learned to fly with the best of them. And he only hoped to God that his skills helped him make a safe landing, wherever that might be.

Scott barely registers the sound of the door opening and closing again and the pounding of two sets of feet as they follow after him. 

They’re usually good at knowing when to leave him be, but they follow him outside all the same. Even Scott has to marvel at their ability to read a situation because, _Jesus Christ no_ , he doesn’t want to be left alone. Because he’s afraid of what he’ll do if left to his own devices – if left to the emotions, fears, and needs that feel like they’re about to tear him apart from the inside out. 

“Scott…” 

It’s the Professor that speaks first, but Scott can’t turn around. Not yet. He pants harshly and watches his breath mist in front of his face, as he fights the _help him, find him_ throbbing within him. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and he gives a half-hearted try to shrug it off, but its grip only tightens. He’s tugged ever so gently and he goes willingly, crashing his face into Erik’s chest as the older man’s arms come around him. 

"I've got you," is murmured in his ear and he takes comfort in the gruff whisper. He doesn't think he could take comfort from anyone else at the moment, not even the professor, and Scott buries his nose further in the familiar scent of Erik's shirt.

"I gotta... I need..." he isn't sure what's supposed to complete that sentence, but Charles looks at him as if he knows anyway.

"Stay out here as long as you need. Jean is waiting for you when you're ready to come back in."

Scott nods and only then does Erik fully release him. He still wants to break almost everything in his immediate sight line, but he feels a sense of _calm_ wash over him.

"That's cheating," he murmurs, and Charles gives him a tight smile. 

"I take what I can get." 

Scott is horrified to feel a chuckle build in his throat and it bubbles up, bursting forth and taking both adults by surprise. He should stop, because really, now is not the best time, but he can't and he's honestly not sure he even wants to. He's laughing and sobbing in equal measure and he wipes at his eyes, not really caring that his glasses are fogging up, or that Charles is tugging Erik away with a knowing look. 

"Jean is waiting when you're ready," the Professor says, and Scott frowns because he's said that once already that night. 

He thinks for a second that he should ask where they're going, but he doesn't. And when he returns to the house to find Sean telling him they've gone to see McCone in the jet, he's too caught up in his _help him, find him_ to think that doesn't sound quite right.

xxxxxx

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Moira's seen them do some dumb stuff over the years, but she's pretty sure this takes the cake. "You want to fly into enemy territory, land _in enemy territory_ , somehow find Alex, and fly back."

"Precisely." Charles' voice comes crackling over the radio. 

"You're an idiot. Or suicidal. Or both."

A pause. "Imagine it was your son, Moira. And you had the means to bring him home." 

_Damn that man_. Moira doesn't have a son, but she can appreciate the sentiment. She glances sideways at McCone, who has been remarkably silent throughout the whole exchange. Finally, the man steps forward and presses the button on the microphone.

"Xavier, what do you need?"

Moira hangs her head. He always did have a soft spot for them, no matter how insane their plans were.

"If you could clear the air, it would be much appreciated."

The Director sighs. "You're out of my jurisdiction when you hit the ocean, you know that, right?"

"Noted," Erik responds. "Until California will do."

She pours herself a cup of coffee and pulls Alex's file in front of her. When he was deployed, she and McCone promised to keep an eye on him. They tracked his every order, monitored his activity when they could, and kept up-to-date records of his general whereabouts. She only hopes they're as up to date as she needs them to be. 

She listens to Charles and Erik quietly bicker over the radio and she can't help but smile. Charles wants to turn some music on because the silence, as he says, is "incredibly tedious." Erik says that under no circumstances is he to touch the dial. She hears McCone snicker beside her and she loves that these two men can somehow create joy where is there is none. 

Three hours later, they're somewhere over the Pacific and the reception is getting spotty at best. She's been pacing for the past two hours and thirty minutes, but it is definitely not because she's worried. 

"Moira..." Charles voice booms in the silent room and Moira can tell just from the tone of his voice that this is not something she's going to want to hear. "If this turns out to be as dumb as you think it is..."

"Charles - " she starts to warn, glancing at McCone, because she recognizes that tone for what it is: resignation.

"No, no, love. Hear me out. If this ends up not going the way we'd like it to, just keep an eye on them. Hank and Raven and Sean can handle things, but just, drop in... from time to time."

Her throat has gone tight and she nods, but of course Charles and Erik cannot see her affirmation. She wants to yell, because how dare they put her in this position. How dare they put themselves in such danger, but Alex is their son, and they'd move heaven and hell to bring him home safe.

McCone saves her when he steps forward and places a hand on her back, "We will. We both will."

"Thank you," Erik responds, and he sounds more grateful than Moira has ever heard.

Two minutes later, the connection breaks.

Moira paces until she literally cannot stand.

Seventeen hours later, it comes back.

xxxxxx

"Daddy says I only have to eat half of my vegetables to guarantee dessert."

Raven sighs heavily and places her hands on the worn wood of the kitchen table. "Well, Daddy's not here, is he," she snaps with more venom than she means. Immediately Daniel blanches and Raven feels regret sink heavily in her stomach. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean it." 

Danny nods and continues to spoon the peas into his mouth without complaint. She runs her fingers through his soft hair as she carries her plate to the sink. The rest of the children eat in silence and she meets Sean's guilty gaze in the reflection of the window. She shouldn't have snapped, but dammit she was supposed to go with them. She came home from assignment as soon as she heard about Alex, only to be informed by Sean that Erik and Charles had already left to see McCone. 

They had been gone for almost 24 hours now, and Moira wasn't returning her calls. Raven contemplates getting Azazel to drop her off in McCone's office, but he's her boss now and she's not sure breaking and entering would endear her to him. 

"Did they say when they would be back?" she asks, turning and piercing Sean with a look.

"For the twentieth time, no." He pushes his food around his plate, which in itself is weird, since the boy usually shovels anything edible within his reach into his mouth. 

Hank has been locked in the lab ever since Charles and Erik left and Scott put a few new holes in the bunker walls, but at least he was turning up for meals, which was more than Raven could say for her ex boyfriend. 

"Raven, will you read to us tonight?" The request comes from Ororo, the youngest only second to Danny, who looks up at her with hopeful eyes so much like his father's. "The Professor was on chapter five of _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ and I want to know what happens to Lucy."

Of course the children are old enough to read it on their own, but Charles has created a tradition of reading aloud, one that daren't be put on hold in his absence. Even Sean looks eager to get back to the routine as he looks up at her, his plate still untouched, and she finds herself nodding, even though Charles is so much better at the voices, despite her mutation. 

"Can she turn into a lion?" she hears Danny whisper to Ororo. 

"No, silly. Only people." 

Raven quirks an eyebrow and let's a slow grin slide across her face. She's never tried a lion before. 

But before she can even begin to test that theory, she hears the tell-tale sound of the jet and all sound in the kitchen ceases as everyone stares at one another.

"They're back!" Pietro yells, but Wanda has already beaten him to the door. It takes all of two seconds for him to overtake her, though, as the rest of the children go tearing out into the hallway, Raven and Sean hot on their heels. 

"Give them a second to land," she laughs as Daniel tugs on Jean's shirt.

"Why did they fly to DC? Why didn't they get Mr. Azazel to _poof_ them?"

Jean shrugs and Raven can't help but smile, remembering a little baby clapping his hands and grabbing for Azazel's tail whenever he showed up. 

"Pietro, run and tell Hank that they're back."

The boys nods and takes off in a blur while the rest wait in the foyer. Raven shifts from foot to foot, because something's been _off_ since she returned to the house. Charles and Erik wouldn't just disappear without telling anyone (save Sean) and then not check in for almost 24 hours. It's just not like them. They can't even go on a weekend getaway without calling every ten minutes to make sure the house is still standing. 

Hank jogs into the foyer, Pietro hanging onto his back, and glances at Raven with an expectant look. 

"Don't look at me. I don't know what they've been up to," she replies, and spares a glance for Scott who looks like he's a second away from shaking out of his skin. 

She wants to go to the boy, to comfort him, but the front door opens and everything stops - every whisper, every thought, every breath - as Charles and Erik walk in with Alex limping between them.

Her ears are ringing and she blinks slowly, because her mind _must_ be playing tricks on her, but no, Alex is still there. Bruised and bloodied, but still standing, and it's all she can do to not fall to her knees. 

A strangled noise comes from her left, and she catches sight of Scott stumbling towards his brother as Ororo yells, "Alex!" 

"Gently," Charles cautions as Scott reaches Alex, and the blond grimaces slightly as he allows his brother to wrap his arms around him.

Erik supports the majority of Alex's weight, and she takes a moment to do inventory. He's favoring his left leg, his arm is in a rudimentary sling, and what skin she can see is covered with bruises. But still he's here, and he's smiling, as Scott buries his face in Alex's shirt. 

Daniel has run over to Charles and Charles picks him up, allowing him to reach out and pet Alex's head like a puppy. The image causes Raven to laugh, which quickly develops into a sob as she finally steps forward and allows herself to be gathered into the rapidly forming group hug.

Only Hank still stands apart, staring at Charles and Erik as if he's never seen them before. "But... How?"

"Later," Charles murmurs, and Raven knows it's going to be a late night of explanations and reunions. Neither he nor Erik have returned unscathed; each carries their own set of injuries - a black eye here, a cut that needs stitches there - but they're all home and that's all that matters.

"Hank, please help Erik get Alex to the infirmary."

"You need to get there yourself," Hank replies, and he seems to have recovered enough of his senses to slip into doctor mode, as he examines the cut above Charles' eye. 

Her brother nods, but first he places a hand on Sean's shoulder and grips him fiercely. "Well done, my boy. Thank you."

And Raven seems to recover some sense of indignation as she rounds on the red-head no one ever seems to put enough faith in.

"You knew?!"

And Sean smiles as he ruffles Alex's hair.

"You're goddamn right I did."

xxxxxx

Alex hisses as Hank attempts to remove the sling, which is really just a piece of his parachute wrapped haphazardly around his body. Erik had to improvise.

"Stop complaining," the Beast mutters and Alex barks out a chuckle.

"I missed you too, Bozo."

Hank smiles as he cuts off Alex's shirt, leaving him in only his boxers, and he allows himself to be gently manhandled by Scott into the shower to wash off the grime that is caked to his body. He feels as though every bad thing he's encountered over the past year is being wiped away as the hot water hits him. He's surrounded by his family and it's more than he's allowed himself to hope for during those dark, desolate months. 

He splutters a bit as he inhales some water and Scott lets him lean on his shoulder, soaking his shirt, as he hands him a bar of soap. His shoulder had been dislocated in the landing, and his ankle sprained. Charles was frighteningly good at popping it back into place, but it still hurt something fierce. 

_Charles_. Alex glances at him where he sits on a table, allowing Hank to stitch up the cut above his eye. Erik sit next to him with a bandage around his torso where he took a piece of shrapnel and, though his wound is far more serious than Charles', he stares at the Professor like he's just recovered from a mortal injury. Alex chuckles. Some things never change. 

"Yo, are you going to clean yourself, or just stand there and stare?" Scott says and Alex smiles tiredly.

"Just stand here and stare, if it's all the same to you."

"Okay then," his brother replies and Alex is pretty sure he could stand there all night, and Scott would stay with him, holding him up. 

The kids all sit in a row on one of the tables, like little ducks, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. It's a testament to how much they've grown that they're allowed in the infirmary at all. Jean stays at Hank's side, handing him things he needs as he stitches up his rescuers. It'll be his turn soon enough, but for now, he savors the hot water and the firm but gentle grip of his brother's hands. 

He meets Sean's gaze and finds the boy staring at him like he'll disappear any second. Alex gives him a weary smile and mouths a silent "Thank you" across the room. Sean ducks his head and gives a small nod. It seems to say both "Of course, you jackass" and "Don't ever do that again."

Raven still looks infuriated that she didn't get to tag along and she glares at Charles and Erik, even as she changes Erik's bandage. 

"That was a really dumb thing to do," she scolds and the Professor meets his gaze. 

"Yes, very dumb indeed." 

Alex reads the _"but absolutely worth it_ " in the subtext.

And he watches Charles finally silence Raven by grabbing her face and placing a kiss on her cheek, even as Wanda wrinkles her nose at something Pietro said, and Hank yells at Sean for touching the scalpels. He watches Erik place a subtle kiss on Charles' temple as Ororo folds his battered clothes and Jean helps Danny climb up next to his Vati on the table. He doesn't realize just how much he's missed this until it steals the breath from his lungs and the words from his throat.

"You all right?" Scott asks and Alex nods. Despite the sprained ankle and dislocated shoulder and multiple cuts and gashes, it's the best he's been since he took off on a motorcycle and made a promise to the wind.

"Perfect," Alex says.

_"Come home,"_ Charles had pleaded _._

"I'm home."


End file.
